


Water, Water Everywhere

by conceptofzero



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-15
Updated: 2011-10-15
Packaged: 2017-10-24 15:28:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/265048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/conceptofzero/pseuds/conceptofzero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One of these days, somebody’s going to catch on to the fact that the Felt can’t be drowned. Today is not that day, since Trace is tied to a chair with his feet stuck in cement, his back against the side of the bridge. He tries to wiggle his toes, but it’s past being able to move them around. The cement is mostly hard, and it’s going to be a bitch to get that off of his skin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Water, Water Everywhere

One of these days, somebody’s going to catch on to the fact that the Felt can’t be drowned.

Today is not that day, since Trace is tied to a chair with his feet stuck in cement, his back against the side of the bridge. He tries to wiggle his toes, but it’s past being able to move them around. The cement is mostly hard, and it’s going to be a bitch to get that off of his skin. Still, it’ll be less of a bitch to get that off then to get shot and hope Stitch gets to his effigy in time.

“Last chance Trace,” Snake Eyes has his foot on the front of the chair. All it takes it a push to knock Trace off-balance and right into the one and only river running through Midnight City (hell, maybe the only river on the planet judging by how fucking dry it is). “Tell us what you boys have planned for Friday and I’ll just walk away.”

“You know I’m not going to do that. You can threaten me all you want, the Felt’s already here,” It’s a careful line to walk between being arrogant enough that they think he’s bluffing, but not so arrogant that they actually start wondering why he’s not afraid of the river. “If you and your boys walk away now, maybe this will end without any bloodshed. Maybe.”

“If the Felt’s here, then we don’t need you, do we? We can find someone who’ll actually cooperate,” Snake Eyes nudges, and Trace forces his eyes to get wide as he rocks back. He also pushes his own weight behind the nudge, turning it into a full-fledged fall. The look on Snake Eyes’ face is hysterical as he realizes he’s gone too fair. “Fuck, grab him-”

“Fuck!” Trace yells, the chair and bucket of cement falling off the bridge. He tumbles for a second or two before smashing into the water. Trace curses underwater. God that hurts like a bitch. The chair takes the brunt of the impact, breaking apart as he plunges deep into the river water and sinks to the black bottom.

It’s a deep river, deep enough that the bridge disappears, and so do those idiots peering over the edges, fighting over if they should go after him. It’s dark down here, darker still when the cement tub hits the floor and kicks up dirt. Trace turns this way and that, his gills fluttering beneath his shirt. He’s not pulling in a lot of air that way, but he doesn’t need to. His noseflaps closed the moment he hit the water, and his heart slowed immediately afterwards. The air in his lungs, supplemented with whatever his body’s grabbing through the shirt, will be more than enough to keep him going for about half an hour.

He waits, because that’s all he can do. It’s quiet underwater, and the current rocks him back and forth, leaving him to sway in it like a tree in a breeze. Trace can’t see his future trail, but he knows Fin will spot it, probably staggering out of the river banks besides his own. All he has to do is follow it back to here, right to him.

Trace still has plenty of air in his lungs when he sees Fin swimming towards him, moving through the water sleek and soundlessly as ever. He’s stripped down to his boxers with a tool-bag on his back and he stops in front of Trace, webbed feet lightly kicking in the water to keep from being swept away by the current. His gills are wide open, and he grins at Trace.

The first thing he does is open up Trace’s jacket and shirt, and Trace relaxes as he can finally breathe easy again. Fin works on the ropes and knocks away the broken remains of the chair while Trace opens up his mouth and finally gets rid of the air that’s been sitting in his lungs. Cool fresh water flows in and his body completely switches over to getting air from his gills.

“Nice shoes,” Fin’s voice is so different underwater. Gone is the usual rasp, turned into a pleasing vibration this deep underwater. “Wanna fuck?”

Trace laughs, even as he strips his shirt and jacket off. “The others might notice.”

“It’s going to take for fucking ever to get you out of this cement, they won’t notice if we take a break for something fun,” He gets in close, his body pressing up against Trace’s. Trace can’t help but lean into him, savouring that wonderful heat coming from him. “C’mon, it’ll be fun.”

“I guess we could spare ten minutes,” Trace grins, even as Fin punches him. Punches don’t hurt all that much underwater. And Fin does have a point. Even if they haul him out and chip away at this shit out of the water, or if they stay down here until it’s gone, it’s still taking for fucking ever. Might as well enjoy themselves first. “Here-” He pushes his mouth against Fin’s, kissing him carelessly.

Trace feels those sharp teeth nick his lips and he smells the bloom of blood in the river water. Fin smells it too, maybe even sharper than Trace, the cock pressing against Trace’s body going from half-hard to rock solid in an instant. His tongue presses against the cuts on Trace’s lips, and his eyes go sharp in a way that makes Trace’s knees a little weak. Good thing there’s plenty of water to hold him up down here.

Fin backs away from Trace, darting around him in the water. Trace twists to see him, but Fin's quicker, and as soon as he glances around, Fin is back up against him, fingers stroking over the front of his pants. As quickly as he touches Trace, he darts away again, swimming just out of reach. Trace tries to lunge for him, but he's not going anywhere with his feet encased in cement. "You asshole."

Of course he just smiles, those sharp shark teeth of his flashing at Trace with glee. He keeps swimming circles around Trace, feet stirring up the water with every kick. Trace tries to get him, but he eventually gives up, rolling eyes. Fin finally comes to a stop in front of Trace, just floating there. "How's it feel to be stuck in cement?"

"I don't know, how's it feel to never get laid again," Trace snaps at him. Fin laughs and swims in closer. He finally gets a hold of Fin, and once his arms grab onto him, he refuses to let go. "Listen up fucker, we've got limited time down here."

"We've got as much time as we want. But fine, you fucking pansy," Fin kisses him again, though he’s a lot more careful about it than before, making sure not to draw blood. Trace relaxes into the kiss, his hands finally loosening. This time, when Trace pulls free, he doesn't act like a dick. Instead, he swims around behind Trace.

Trace can't see, but he knows Fin is getting his shorts off and probably stuffing them in the tool bag. It's heavy enough it won't be swept away on them. Trace gets a move on as well, getting his belt off and his pants down, shoved as far down as they can go when he’s mid-calf in cement. The water’s so cold against his body, but it feels good too, the current pressing against him. And then Fin doing the same, moulding himself against Trace’s back. His dick presses against Trace’s ass, just rubbing between his cheeks. “It’s been a long fucking time since I had a chance to do this. You?”

Trace nods. “Same. Couple of years.” There’s not much in the way of water on Alternia, and even at home, there wasn’t too many opportunities to do this. It was more likely someone would come along and catch you fucking in public rivers than here. That’s less likely to happen here, but then they’d have to explain why they were heading down to the river alone, and what Fin and Trace choose to do is none of the Felt’s business.

They’ve made do a few times with the bathtub, but then it’s just one of them on their backs underwater while the other’s stuck up in the air. And then there’s the mess to clean up, and trying to find some time when they won’t be interrupted, and a bunch of other bullshit. It’s just easier to fuck on land in beds and closets and the like, even if it isn’t the same, or nearly as good.

Fin presses the head of his cock against Trace’s entrance and ever so slowly begins to slide inside. The water makes this easier, but he still goes slowly, his hands holding tight onto Trace’s hips. Trace clenches his teeth as the slow burn becomes a little more than that, his gills staying wide open as he makes sure to keep breathing. Fin’s response is to kiss the side of Trace’s head, those teeth pressing against the flesh but not cutting it. And he keeps slowly pushing in, until he’s finally all the way inside of Trace.

He feels Fin groaning, the vibrations travelling out of his throat and chest and against Trace, and one hand finally leaves Trace’s hips, wrapping around his own painfully hard cock. Trace’s hips twitch forward into the touch, and Fin does the same, shallowly thrusting into Trace. The water slows everything down, so they do it differently. Instead of thrusting in and out constantly, they settle for a steady rocking, staying buried inside of Trace’s ass the entire time instead of only part of it.

It’s more intimate this way, even if the fucking tub of cement is keeping them stuck at the very bottom of the river. Usually they'd let the stream carry them, though it is a pain in the ass having to swim or walk all the way back to where you left your clothes. Fin hooks his legs around Trace's, keeping them pressed tight together, and his hand slips off of Trace's hip, up to touch his gills.

Trace moans, shuddering as his gills twitch open and closed. It feels so good, one hand stroking him, a cock deep inside of him, and a hand just carefully brushing over his gill slits. His own hands reach back, holding tight onto Fin and demanding his hips keep rocking steadily. "Fuck, don't stop."

"I'm not about to you idiot," Fin's usual snarl is gone underwater, muted and damped and turned into a more affectionate annoyance. He keeps thrusting ever so slowly, the head of his cock steadily rubbing up against Trace's prostate. Fin's legs are still hooked tight around Trace's, holding him steady in the shifting current. Trace's eyes close, focusing on how fantastic this all feels, the way his body keeps tightening up in anticipation. The current keeps pushing them back and forth, and the cement keeps them grounded, and though being free would be better, this is good too.

His eyes jerk open when he feels Fin dig his teeth into his shoulder, biting hard enough to break the skin. The water blooms pink as he bleeds, and the smell of it just makes him moan. The teeth stay dug into his skin, and as they cut with each rock back and forth, Fin strokes Trace twice as hard. His eyes turn up to the river surface above, his hands holding as tight to Fin as he can.

Fin lets go of Trace's shoulder, and Trace turns his head, awkwardly seeking out his mouth. They have to be so careful when they kiss at this angle. He tastes blood in Fin's mouth, blood and freshwater, and that's what he's still tasting when Fin's cock rocks in and Trace comes on the spot. Fin's right behind him, too deep inside of Trace to be unaffected when Trace seizes up and squeezes him tight. His head falls back on Fin's shoulder and he warbles incoherently as loudly as he wants, knowing the water will muffle his sounds better than any pillowcase ever could.

As Fin's fingers dig in and Trace feels that white-hot blot of warmth from him coming, his eyes focus on something shining white in the light. It takes a moment for his orgasm addled brain to realized what it is and he laughs, watching as the pearly white string floats up and away from them in the current.

"W-what?" Fin asks, head resting against the side of Trace's face. His eyes try to follow Trace's line of sight but he misses it. "What?"

"Nothing," Trace shakes his head and just stays pressed tight against Trace. This is nice, really nice. The water's swaying them a little, and he's actually getting to just stay in Trace's arms for once instead of having to slip out right away. He's no fucking girl, it's not like he wants to snuggle or anything but. Sometimes this shit is nice.

But they've got things to do, and Fin pulls himself off of Trace. While Fin gets his boxers up, Trace does the same with his pants. That's one nice thing about being underwater: no mess. The current takes care of everything. He gets buckled and sorted, and then tries to shift his feet. The concrete is tight as ever.

Fin digs through the tool bag, coming up with a pair of hammers. He hands one to Trace and gets settled on the river bed. "You think Scratch would come up with something faster than this."

"If he did, we wouldn't have time to fuck down here," Trace leans over to start hammering, pausing as he realizes something. "... do you think he knows we fuck down here and this is deliberate?"

"What? No," Fin stops too though, glancing back up. "No. He wouldn't. ... oh fuck, he totally does."

"Don't think about it," Trace shakes his head, trying to get rid of the image of Scratch looking at them. He shudders and gets to work on the block of cement on his feet, doing his best not to focus on immortal omniscient men with cueballs for heads.


End file.
